


The Good and the Evil

by darkesky



Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: “Move the infirmary?” Lysithea’s eyes grew wide.Dimitri chose to step in then. “The current infirmary doesn’t have enough space to accommodate for everyone getting sick. We’re moving beds and cots down to the reception hall as well as any supplies she may need. You may have noticed your healers have been spending time with Manuela to help decide what they will need.”“Why are we moving the infirmary though? Wouldn’t it be easier to confine everyone to their dorms?” Lysithea glanced between Dimitri and Jeralt, searching for some kind of answer, but as her face continued to fall, she must’ve been coming up short.---Garreg Mach responds to the sickness, and everyone gets an update on Claude.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Leonie Pinelli
Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599064
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	The Good and the Evil

**Author's Note:**

> i guess i'm only capable of updating this series in like, spans of months haha

When Captain Jeralt asked for the three most capable from each house, Leonie would be damned if she didn’t get selected. Sure, she felt a little more rundown than usual, and sometimes, she suspected she would be in a constant state of being hungover, but it was beyond the point. She was Jeralt’s  _ apprentice.  _ She refused to let him down like that, no matter what her own condition was!

Besides, they couldn’t pick Claude because he fought with his own sickness. Everyone  _ knew  _ he was sick; she wondered why he still pretended otherwise. What advantage did that give him? And his sickness wasn’t even that bad! A few sniffles here and there, the constant urge to sleep. That’s what she had. And Hilda, their newest house leader evidently, was too lazy to lend a hand.

When it came down to it, she was one of the top three in the Golden Deer.

“What do you think Jeralt wants?” Raphael asked as they walked towards the man’s office.

Lysithea shrugged, but she wrinkled her nose. “We’re way too close to all the sick people.”

“Afraid of getting sick?” 

“Who  _ isn’t?  _ Did you see Ashe?” She made another face, and Leonie doesn’t know how to interpret that one. “I’m not going out, crying like a baby.”

“Aw, Ly.” Raphael tried to reach out and capture her in a half-hug, but she dodged with ease. “Don’t be mean about it! And there’s no shame in crying when you’re sick. Maya used to always bawl any time she got a fever.”

“He’s the only one I know who cried… Maybe Sylvain.”

“Are you watching them?” Leonie asked with a laugh as they got to the top of the stairs. Glancing at Lysithea out of the corner of her eye, she froze. “Wait, seriously?”

“What? Claude asked me to!” Then, her cheeks flooded bright red. “I mean—”

“Claude asked you to?” It was… Odd to hear. For the past week, he faded to the back of their minds, for the most part at least. He still attended class, but most of the time, he slept in the back. Any time Byleth called him out on it, he offered a wink and a sly smile, deflecting it. Day by day, the excuses got weaker, but she didn’t have the heart to call him out on it. 

Lysithea started walking faster. “Wow, look, every other class is already here!”

Leonie allowed for the excuse as they entered Jeralt’s office to a… Strange sight.

Petra and Caspar stood in the corner of the room, discussing something in low voices as they tugged on armored gloves. They dripped and oozed with soap bubbles, falling to the ground as they did so. Both had wrapped bandanas around their faces, obscuring their noses and mouths. Hubert stood apart from them, but he seemed to be getting on the same gear.

Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue all had started wrapping bandanas in a specific way to help cover their mouths. Somberness was written across all of their expressions as they did so, eyes flitting to the wall separating Jeralt’s office from the infirmary. 

Raphael found his voice first. “What is going on?”

“Oh good, they sent the big guy. I was half-worried your house leader would drag himself here, half dead. Start gearing up. You aren’t allowed to help unless you’re following the protocol.”

“Protocol, Captain Jeralt?” Leonie edged her way to stand by his side.

He nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “Manuela implemented it. She doesn’t know if it’ll help, but she needs the help of students to move the infirmary.”

“Move the infirmary?” Lysithea’s eyes grew wide.

Dimitri chose to step in then. “The current infirmary doesn’t have enough space to accommodate for everyone getting sick. We’re moving beds and cots down to the reception hall as well as any supplies she may need. You may have noticed your healers have been spending time with Manuela to help decide what they will need.”

To be honest, Leonie  _ hadn’t.  _ She rarely spent any time with Marianne, and since they had Byleth teaching their class, she spent the week trying to take advantage of that. She got special lessons almost every day since nobody else vied for it. 

“Why are we moving the infirmary though? Wouldn’t it be easier to confine everyone to their dorms?” Lysithea glanced between Dimitri and Jeralt, searching for some kind of answer, but as her face continued to fall, she must’ve been coming up short.

Jeralt cleared his throat. “We’ll explain that all tonight. In the meantime, we need to get going.”

-

“You’re being ridiculous, you know.”

“I don’t think so.” Claude bunched the quilt up around his shoulders again, trying to trap it underneath his elbows. He tried working sitting up, but nausea hit him hard enough he ended up on his stomach anyway. At least this time, he managed to puke into the bucket strategically placed next to his bed. 

Hilda snorted from where she sat on his desk. “Everyone knows you’re sick. Why don’t you take the day off? I’d  _ love  _ to.”

“Well, Hilda, that’s where…” He swallowed a sudden wave of bile. Why can’t he  _ beat  _ this? Two days ago, his fever broke for the most part. And now, it settled back in him, starting to mount again. It’s lucky today was the free day; otherwise, he thought he might have to skip class, and apparently, they were on the verge of starting a new policy.

She cleared her throat. “That’s where what?”

“I dunno.” He kept forgetting his thoughts mid-sentence, but that meant absolutely nothing. Peeking up from his work, he caught Hilda’s brow knitting together in concern. “You’ll get wrinkles like that.”

“Shut up.” Leaning forward from the desk, she scanned the pieces of paper sprawled in front of him. “You’ve read that one at least five times.”

“It’s really juicy.”

“It’s, like, five sentences.”

“Really  _ juicy  _ five sentences.” He offered his best smile before going back to trying to read the five sentences. It took him  _ three days  _ to execute this plan well enough. Mostly because he had to rely on other people to get information for him. Lysithea accepted the responsibility easily enough, and he even convinced Dimitri to give him copies of his own statements towards the Blue Lions. He sensed Dimitri wasn’t giving him the  _ full  _ copies, but frustratingly enough, he couldn’t even tell.

His vision kept blurring, and sometimes, he forgot the meaning of some of the words. He knew he  _ shouldn’t.  _ Sure, he spoke this language better than writing or reading, but none of these looked particularly difficult. They came from people like Manuela, the infamous drunkard, and Dimitri, who… Might make it difficult.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let this  _ piece of paper  _ best him.

He startled when a hand slid over his. “When did…?”

“If you fall asleep on your letters, you’re going to drool all over them. And that’d be disgusting.” Hilda managed to snatch one of the letters away before he hovered over the other pieces of paper, protectively. “Are you serious right now? You’re not even getting work done!”

“Takes one to know one.”

“That doesn’t make  _ sense  _ in this context.” Huffing, she slammed the letter down on the desk before standing over him, her shadow sitting thickly on his frame. He scowled at the implications, but he knew better than to say anything. “Look, Claudey, it’s time to take a break. What if I… I could read your stupid letters?”

“No, no, no.” He ignored the way he started to babble and slur his words together. As he learned these past few days, if he refused to acknowledge his own sickness, it might go away. At this point, he’d try anything (except resting or going to the infirmary). “You can’t read them, Hilds, it’s… Confi… Con… Confident... It’s secret.”

“Confidential?” She turned to get the letter.  _ “‘Professor Byleth—’” _

“Hilda!” He started to scramble forward to catch her.

_ “‘As I’m sure you’re aware, the knights from before have gone into what we predict is the last stage of sickness. I—’  _ Claude!”

Claude lunged for her, but his vision blurred until three Hildas stood in front of him. With a scowl, he lunged at the one in the middle (she hadn’t moved, right?). His blanket tangled with his legs. Yelping as the bed disappeared underneath him, he felt the blanket yank him back. The momentum propelled him straight into his desk, and his head cracked against the corner. For a second, the world went completely black as he fell back towards the ground. 

Then, his vision came back to him. 

Hilda hovered on top of him, eyes bright and wide. “Claude, are you okay?”

“You can’t… You can’t read it…” He reached out to try and catch her wrist, and he missed. She shifted and grabbed his hands instead. 

Nodding, she started to get to her feet… But she didn’t let him go. “I won’t read it.”

“Hilda… What are you—”

“We’re going to the infirmary. And you can’t even stop me. And the only person you can blame is yourself.” She hoisted him up despite his protests. When he tried to speak louder, she spoke even louder as she tossed him over her shoulder. “You were the one who said I needed to train harder. You were the one who said I needed to be able to swing around an axe without any troubles. So, this is on you.”

“Hilda, we can’t…” He tried to wiggle free.

She snorted. “If I drop you right now, you would crack your head on the carpet…  _ Again.  _ So, maybe think about that.”

“No infirmary—”

“For a  _ week,  _ I have let you talk me out of the infirmary. And now, you’re bleeding. So, uh, no. We’re going. I’m not a healer. You’re an awful patient. Maybe Marianne can deal with you better. Or Manuela.”

“Please, please,  _ please.”  _ He can’t fight her. He can’t even free himself from her, somehow…

He did the other thing that would get her to drop him. 

He fixated on the wall for a few seconds, waiting for the world to start to spin around him again. And then, he puked down her back.

-

Leonie needed to take a break. 

Whether or not she’d admit that fact out loud was a different matter. Halfway through carrying one of the beds down with Raphael, a coughing fit overcame her. She let him carry it the rest of the way while she staggered back upstairs to catch her breath… Which was how she ended up in the library of all places.

As she crouched down there, struggling to catch her breath, something caught her eye.

Linhardt slumbered on, snoring louder than she ever heard him before. He almost sounded like one of the village elders; he always struggled in the springtime. He’d sniffle and cough and clear his throat. It used to be a clear sign of sickness, but the air always stunk of sickness at Garreg Mach now.

What intrigued Leonie was the stack of books next to him. She pushed herself to her feet, and before she could talk herself out of it, she staggered over to the stack and stole it, carrying it back to the nook she crouched in before. 

She prided herself on being one of the most practical ones in the Golden Deer. All around her, she dealt with fantastical personalities. Yet, as she sat there, it dawned on her she was choosing the least practical route. People got sick; there was no shame in taking care of yourself when that happened. Sure, it would make her less helpful. Sure, she’d be one of the first people to come down with it, but… Did she think less of Felix? No, she still thought he was one of the most admirable people at the academy.

And, rumor had it he found a new way to make himself helpful.

Maybe she needed to do that.

But first, she needed to investigate Linhardt’s books. Unsurprisingly, all of them dealt with sickness in some way, shape, or form. Hidden within one of the books, though, bulging out just enough, was a notebook. 

She shouldn’t look through it.

But she opened the first page to neat handwriting anyway… Handwriting she  _ knew  _ didn’t belong to Linhardt. One time, he swung by when she practiced with Caspar to offer his (boyfriend?) notes. Caspar pored over them for a few seconds before tossing them aside, and the wind sent them scattering a few moments later. When she helped catch them, she saw how illegible all of Linhardt’s notes were.

It made sense; the village joke was that doctors couldn’t write. Which means someone  _ else  _ wrote this.

-

**_Results of Experiment #1:_ **

**_Patient 1 reacted badly at first—described it as unbearably hot. The sweat and flush confirm. Could not measure fever at the time. Eased symptoms of sore throat for about two hours, but made fever spike worse afterwards._ **

**_Patient 2 reacted similarly—first few seconds after drinking left them sweating and out of breath, but their sore throat vanished. Two hours later, fever spiked._ **

**_Patient 3 had same reaction._ **

**_Results of Experiment #2:_ **

**_DO NOT REPEAT_ **

**_Patient 1 dropped unconscious, to the best of our knowledge. Have not come out of it well enough to confirm._ **

**_Results of Experiment #3:_ **

**_Still processing according to H._ **

_ - _

Experiments… It had to be potions to help combat the sickness! And, as Leonie started to flip through it more frantically, she found a list of ingredients for each potion in different handwriting.  _ And  _ they had enough to try twenty different variations of the experiment. Using the bookcase to help herself up, she tucked it in her jacket before leaving the library. While she might regret going to him, especially considering his sickness, if this could help anyone, she needed to give it to the best potion maker of the academy. 

She needed to find Claude.

-

Claude doesn’t really know how he ended up here… He didn’t even know where  _ here  _ was. It looked like one of the other dorm rooms, but he knew it wasn’t his own. His stunk of vomit… Then again, so did this one. But he knew he got far enough away Hilda stopped looking for him. Or maybe, he managed to hide out of sight long enough. But that meant it couldn’t be his own room.

He missed his bow. 

This room didn’t provide nearly enough protection for the next person who might come to collect him. Knowing Hilda, she finally raised the alarm for the rest of the Golden Deer to try and track him down. And he couldn’t do that. She didn’t  _ get  _ it, but he couldn’t go to the infirmary. 

Too many people wanted him dead.

Okay, okay, Claude had been around the block enough. He knew how to function while not functioning. He couldn’t stay in this room forever, but if he could stay hidden until the right person came to find him, he could convince them he didn’t need to go. Sure, he knew that was getting harder and harder to prove,  _ but…  _ No, he could pull this off. He was ‘Claude von Riegan’ after all!

He knew better than to stand up. If he did, he’d end up clipping his head on another desk. The other cut still bled sluggishly, but head wounds bleed a lot. He didn’t think he was… Injured? Concussed? He already felt confused and had a raging headache from being sick, so he doubted he could feel worse.

Crawling, he started to assess the better place to hide. The room hadn’t been occupied since,  _ at least,  _ this morning. As he slid back underneath the bed, he got a strange feeling he did this before. Maybe this was even how he evaded Hilda. But he laid there anyway, staring up at the wood, letting the world pass around him like hazy waves.

He doesn’t think he fell asleep.

But he might’ve.

-

The last person Leonie expected to crash into was Hilda, but Hilda barrelled into her anyway. “Whoa! Slow down!”

“Leonie! Have you seen Claude?” Hilda babbled, stepping back from her. 

Leonie sniffed instead, wrinkling her nose. “Why do you smell like vomit—”

“I haven’t gotten a chance to change! I just… I, like, wiped it off, and he vanished in that time! And I don’t know where he went, and I thought there was no way he could’ve gone far, but apparently, he’s possessed like always, and I don’t  _ get  _ him!” She ended with a stomp like a toddler throwing a tantrum. When Leonie lifted an eyebrow, she huffed and whirled around, exposing chunks of vomit still caught up in her pink hair and the back of her uniform, staining the white red— _ Red? _

“Hilda, don’t move.” Pinching her own mouth shut, ignoring the way her breath became more labored, she stepped forward to inspect the vomit more closely. “Oh, shit.” 

“What? What are you seeing?” Hilda strained to look over her shoulder, whipping her long hair with the motion. Leonie struggled to gag as it hit her shoulder, stepping backwards. Sue her; she didn’t like vomit. Who did?

Leonie waited until Hilda flipped around to face her. “I think… I think he might be puking up blood.”

All of the color drained from her face. “What? No, you can’t be serious. It’s… It’s  _ Claude.  _ Even Claude wouldn’t be so stubborn that he ignored that, right?”

“I think,” she started, cautiously. She knew Hilda felt closer to Claude than anyone else in their house… Sure, they all might be friends (except Lorenz and Claude), but they still didn’t know much about their house leader, “the fever might be stopping him from making good choices. How long has he been sick? A week?”

“Yeah… I think? He wouldn’t have told us if he felt sicker before that all-house brawl. You know how he is!” Hilda suddenly swiped at her face. “Shit, I… What do we do, Leonie?”

“I don’t know.” She fiddled with the edges of the notebook. Right now, it felt stupid to try and tell Claude about the potions… But she still thought he’d be their best bet. And if  _ H  _ was who she thought he was, the combination of the two might be the best way to save Garreg Mach. Assuming the Black Eagles’ heads weren’t too far up their own asses to help everyone. “Maybe it’s time to tell someone. Like… Like Captain Jeralt! He’d know how to handle this!”

“Or Byleth…” She groaned. “I feel so stupid. Why didn’t I let someone else do the work for me?”

“Because you were being a good friend.” Leonie hesitated. “I’d pat you on the shoulder, but I really don’t want to touch anything… How about I look for Claude, and you go wash up? And if I find him before you get back, we can discuss,  _ with him,  _ how to go about this. And if I don’t, we go straight to Captain Jeralt or his daughter.”

“Since when did you become such a leader?” Hilda sniffed.

She shrugged. “I try my best. But I couldn’t be the leader of the Golden Deer.”

“You’d be doing a better job than me—”

“Because I think I’m the next person who needs to get checked into the infirmary.” She hated the way it made Hilda tense up, the words meaning a different kind of fight. The way the other girl’s eyes hardened was reminiscent of the way she acted when they were on the battlefield. 

Leonie never would’ve imagined Hilda would be the best second-in-command for the Golden Deer. With how many tantrums Lorenz kept throwing about the whole arrangement, she knew she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

“Hilda! Leonie!” 

Both of them exchanged wide-eyed stares as if getting caught before turning.

Cyril bound up to them. “Lady Rhea is calling a meeting for all students in the cathedral! It’s urgent, you have to go right now!”

-

Rhea stood in front of the church, and, at her side, Byleth watched all of her students file in. None of the sick ones needed to attend—those coherent enough to understand would get a memo from their beds. The knights still capable of work hadn’t joined either; they would finish setting up the new infirmary. The students helped enough, but the rest would go down to the knights in their masks and armor. 

When Cyril stepped inside with Hilda and Leonie, he scampered up to Rhea. Byleth bit down on her lip to keep any amusement from showing; that kid had too much dedication. “I couldn’t find Claude, Lady Rhea, but I can go find him—”

“Start without him,” interrupted Byleth. When both eyes turned to her, she offered a half-shrug. “I imagine he already knows everything he needs to. He knows how to get information fast.”

“If you believe so, I trust you,” Rhea said warmly before stepping forward, nodding at Seteth. The man offered his own curt nod back, shutting the doors to the cathedral. Nobody would be allowed to enter or exit until they finished this impromptu meeting now. 

As Rhea started her speech with a customary prayer, Byleth took the time to study the ranks of the students. Almost all of the Black Eagles attended—Ferdinand stayed, mostly comatose, in the infirmary, and she imagined Linhardt tried to catch up on his missed sleep. The Blue Lions’ numbers waned. The previous night, Annette finally admitted her sickness. Now, only four of them remained. And the Golden Deer missed only one, but Claude was such a central member, it felt like they took a hit anyway.

“As I’m sure you all know, a sickness has taken to Garreg Mach.” The mood sobered as Rhea got into the more important details. “We are trying our hardest to heal all those inflicted, but we have yet to find a cure. We will continue to care for them, but as nobody has recovered from this naturally, this is a good chance… We must prepare ourselves for the worst.”

Someone let out a light sob; Byleth would guess Mercedes.

“We have decided, due to the growing numbers, to move the infirmary to the reception hall. And, from this point on, the only ones allowed inside the infirmary are those afflicted and those working to heal them. No visitors. Similarly, nobody is allowed on or off Garreg Mach’s territory. We have officially entered a quarantine.” Rhea took a second to compose herself before seeking out key students in the crowd. “I hate to ask this of you, but if you have any expertise in healing, any help will be appreciated. Know by accepting that, though, you will have to sleep with and amongst the sick. If you’re interested, come see me. Otherwise, goodbye, and may the Goddess look upon us fondly.”

“Pardon me, but I have an announcement myself,” Seteth called from the back of the room.

Rhea nodded at him. “Proceed.”

“I will wait one week to make sure I will not come down with any symptoms myself. But if a week passes with no cure, then I will set off and see if anyone in nearby areas has a cure. That said, if any student is interested in that, come see me. Thank you.”

“Goddess have mercy on us all,” Byleth murmured, eyes shifting to where Sothis floated in the corner of her vision. 

Sothis scoffed and crossed her arms. “What are you implying here?”

**Author's Note:**

> the plot thickens~
> 
> But actually, this sickfic series ended up with a lot more plot than anticipated. I blame real life quarantine. And wanting Hubert and Edelgard to get to live their sketchiest lives


End file.
